We’d just finished a “Containers of Leftovers” buffet and were amid the kayos of trying to do the morning chores (that were abandoned for leaving for church early), unloading the groceries, cleaning up the lunch, finding the coat room, and as always putting those sneaky toys back where they belong. When Sam popped in from outside and asked, “you guys wanna go to Claymine?”
Aka snow wheeling through a pass near our place.
Somehow, like a puzzle- beginning in grand disorder but piece by piece transforming into a picture- the house returned (mostly) to the home we all know and love. The kids all had two mitts, matching boots and snow gear relatively fastened, and were loaded into the Toyota. I had time to grab a mug of tea, and joined them.
Turns out we had beat the family we were meeting, so we drove out to meet them at the pass itself. Parked at the start, we were just in time to see the golden sun sinking behind the horizon. I hopped out into the foot deep snow, tried to catch a couple shots of it’s disappearing glory with my canon, and breathed in the sharp winter air. The sun’s glow lit up the trees just right, and with the little snow drifts tucked near their feet- the forest looked friendly.
I climbed back in the cab. The old rattle trap truck hummed and shook two kids asleep. Sam’s travel mug that rested in the curve of his steering wheel spun from the trucks vibrations, and the stick shifts numbers and letters blurred as they danced about in idle. My three year old breathed softly, asleep, cuddled against me.
And all 6 of us just sat. Together.
Our friends ended up coming and we enjoyed venturing (further than planned) with them. Even got out and rolled about in the snow with all the kids.
Back in the truck, we laughed at the chattering coming from our youngest
“There’s baby bearses in the fields”,
“I’ll tell you when I see the horses tiny feets in the snow, OK Dad?”
We kept a look out for tracks. We tried to guess the animals from their unique prints left in the perfect canvas of fresh snow. And laughed when the “probably a cow” tracks clearly WEREN’T- As they had started bounding.
As we bumped along together through a tangle of forest on a white fluffy carpet rolled out before us. I felt so wonderfully content. I reached over and squeezed Sam’s hand.
Then suddenly I found myself reflecting on something profound I had heard earlier that morning. That I had never heard before. From someone wise and has 43 some-odd-years of marriage under her belt.
That quality couple time for some couples can just be
Time together. Without even talking.
I realized sometimes I try to fit our relationship in with what I hear your supposed to do to have a great marriage. With what works for other marriages.
But what this lady said was SO true for us. But I’d never heard was ok. Cause were not that “long walks and heart to heart talks” couple.
And I got thinking. Just as every person is different, so is every marriage. And so are the ways we show our love. Looking for love in a way it isn’t shown is frustrating and leaves hurt. But looking for loves footsteps, finding its tracks, recognizing its patterns- takes
and isn’t going to look like other people’s…
But it’s there. So beautifully there. And when not bombarded by the worlds comparisons-
You wouldn’t choose it any other way.
It can be easy to slip into wondering why your spouse doesn’t do what so and so’s does, and allow the question “does that mean they don’t love me as much?” slide to mind.
But ACK! Don’t.
Instead search for loves tracks, they’re probably in places you haven’t been looking. They might not be words, but actions. Or choices, or helps. Perhaps a look or touch. Maybe even a correction or a shove in a tricky direction. Sometimes maybe you hear it, sometimes maybe you see it, sometimes maybe you feel it, and other times you just need to know it. Remind yourself.
And while your looking for loves tracks on the canvas of a life together- leave some behind.